After
declaring her candidacy for President at age four, Deb Stover veered off course
to play Lois Lane for a number of years. When she refused to blow Clark Kent’s cover,
she turned her attention to her own Real American Hero and married him.
Considering her experience with Heroes, redirecting her passion for writing
toward romance novels seemed a natural progression. Since publication of Shades of
Rose in 1995, Stover has received dozens of awards for herbest-selling work, which includes over twenty titles in a variety of languagesand formats. This is her second appearance in Heart’s
Kiss.

THE ENCHANTED GARDEN

by
Deb Stover

The
Scottish Highlands.

Glendon didn’t see the bee until it
was too late. He performed a diversionary tactic, but the insect’s wing caught
him square in the jaw and sent him spiraling toward the nearest flower.

Heather, just my luck.

The pollen would cling to his wings
and made him smell like a pillywiggins for weeks. But he consoled himself by
remembering his destiny.

Fate had smiled on him. What was a
little pollen on a sunny day? A smug smile tugged at his mouth. As the new king
and only remaining male of his race, his responsibilities would include
ensuring the propagation of his species.

Twenty virgin brides awaited.

Releasing a ragged breath, Glendon
flapped his wings and attempted liftoff, but too much residue remained. Until
the pollen dried he was grounded.

It was a fine day for an afternoon
nap, but he’d best find a different flower. A lone violet caught his eye.
Growing near the ground as violets will, the plant provided seclusion and cool
shade. He leapt to the ground, then climbed the violet and found a likely leaf.
With a sigh, he settled himself for a well-deserved rest.

A vile stench jerked him from his
dreams, and breathing eluded him for a few agonizing moments as he came fully
awake. Coughing and sneezing, Glendon blinked and tried to rise, but the
cloying scent pressed down upon him. He was trapped.

Paralyzed.

“You ain’t supposed to harvest
there, Ian,” a voice boomed.

“But them Yanks pay dearly for
these weeds.”

Both voices joined in raucous,
deafening laughter. Footsteps came dangerously close. A giant bent toward the
flower. Toward Glendon.

“Well, ever since Grandma died, Dad’s
talked about getting the Society to name the award after her, since she won
every year for the last twenty.” Penny couldn’t believe she was even
considering this. “Cecelia Winston is the director, and—”

“The one who always came in second
to your grandmother?”

“Yeah.” Penny swallowed hard and
continued, “She’s the president now, and she knows I didn’t get Grandma’s
green thumb.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Bingo.” Penny bit into a carrot. “She’s
using me to get even with Grandma, even though she died.”

“I’m sorry.”

Penny blinked and swallowed the
blob of carrot stuck in her throat. “I have to win.”

“But you murder everything with
chlorophyll,” Lisa said with infuriating conviction.

“Gee, thanks.” Penny knew she was a
plague on the assorted flowers of Kansas. “But if I win, they’ll name the award
after Grandma, then…maybe Dad’ll change his will.”

Lisa gave a low whistle.

All this agony, just because of an
old woman’s pride and her father’s chauvinism. “We both know I’m rotten with
flowers, but you aren’t.”

“True.”

“Before she died, Grandma ordered
some flowers from Scotland. They’ll be delivered this afternoon.”

“This’ll be a nice change for you.”
Lisa flashed an encouraging smile. “And we can test the new fertilizer.”

“Does this mean you’ll help me?”

“Of course.” Lisa stirred her tea,
then she put down her spoon and met Penny’s gaze.

“You’re sure it isn’t cow, horse,
chicken or sheep?” Penny asked.

“No.” Lisa leaned forward, placing
her hands on the table. “The ingredients are things you already have. We mix it
up and burn it in—”

“Burn it?” Penny
straightened. “Waitaminute. Don’t we need a cauldron for that, or at least a
license?”

“Ha. Ha.” Lisa shook her head. “In
your fireplace, then we mix the ashes with the soil. For extra zing, you
spray it on, too.”

“Extra zing?” Penny looked around
the modern kitchen. Everything was white and chrome; the word “zing” had no
place here. “We have a problem.”

“What?” Lisa frowned.

“I’m fresh out of eye of newt.”

Lisa shook her finger at Penny. “Well,
aren’t we lucky we don’t need any?” Lisa fidgeted with a cauliflower floret and
cleared her throat. “I do have one condition….”

Penny eyed her friend suspiciously.
“No blind dates.”

“Not that.” Lisa hesitated. “No
chemicals. Promise?”

Penny leaned back in her chair,
defeated. “I might as well surrender now.”

Lisa reached into her huge canvas
bag. “Here’s the formula.” She plunked the bag to the floor and gave Penny a
cock-eyed look. “I think you need another reading.”

“Keep those cards to yourself.”
Penny took a sip of tea. “Last time you said I’d meet a man.”

“Hmm.” Penny stared at her friend.
She’d known Lisa since kindergarten. They’d been through everything together—school,
Girl Scouts, puberty, proms and college.

Still silent, Penny watched Lisa
read the recipe—rather, formula—while she considered the possibilities of her
friend’s obsession with woo-woo stuff. At what point had Lisa forsaken
cheeseburgers and embraced sprouts? And, more importantly, why did that bug
Penny?

The answer shocked her, but she
couldn’t deny it. This was the first thing in Lisa’s life Penny hadn’t shared. “Lisa?”

“Hmm?” Lisa looked up. “What?”

“Does this new lifestyle of yours
have room for a carnivore like me?”

Lisa’s eyes grew round, then she
gave Penny a patronizing smile. “You know better than that. What’s a little
broccoli between us?”

“I’m sorry.” Penny’s stomach
clenched.

“You need a man,” Lisa announced
suddenly.

“Where’d that come from?”
Penny drew a deep breath, then released it very slowly. “Okay, but the right
man. There’s no such animal. For that matter, we both could use a little
romance.”

“Not…necessarily.” Lisa absolutely
glowed—it was disgusting. She leaned back in her chair, the paper still
clutched in her hand. “I’m seeing someone.”

“Oh?” Penny nearly gagged on her
iced tea. “Details.”

“He’s wonderful.” Her smile couldn’t
get any wider, but it did. “He’s kind and gentle, in touch with his feelings,
and he understands his connection to the universe. Are you sure you want to
hear this?”

“I do, and I want to meet him, too.”

“I’m not sure—”

“Dad’s out of town, so bring him
over for dinner tonight.”

“He’s…different, Penny.” Lisa
cocked a brow—an irrefutable challenge.

“Different how?” Worry
slithered through Penny, eating away at her promise to behave. “I mean,
different how?” she repeated in a more pleasant tone, forcing a smile.

Lisa laughed. “You’re hopeless.”
She squeezed Penny’s hand. “He owns the New Age store in town.”

“Oh,” Penny said blandly. At risk
of incurring lasting physical harm, she kept the smile plastered to her face. “A
business owner. How nice.”

“Very funny. The college kids bring
a steady business, and I’m working there part time.” Lisa’s cheeks pinkened and
she looked down at her hands. “He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“You couldn’t have known him very
long. Are you sure?”

“Very.”

Penny cleared her throat and forced
her smile to return. “I just want what’s best for you.” And that’s the
truth. She gave a surrendering shrug. “If you say he’s wonderful, he’s
wonderful, but I still want to see for myself. Okay?”

“Okay.” Lisa sighed. “I can’t tell
you how glad I am that’s over.”

Penny cocked an eyebrow.

“Just kidding. Sorta.” It was Lisa’s
turn to giggle.

“All right, I’m being bitchy.”
Penny refolded her arms across her chest.

“You’re not bitchy,” Lisa said,
unfolding the paper again. “What time do you want us for dinner?”

A vegetarian named Fred. Penny
pointed to the paper. “Now tell me about this recipe—I mean, formula.”

Lisa’s smile lit her whole face and
Penny knew she’d weather this evolution right along with the rest of them. Life
had a way of testing her on a pretty regular basis. Now all she had to do was
find the Basinger family’s green thumb.

Maybe she should check Grandma’s
cedar chest….

***

Glendon remained hidden, holding
the stem of his violet as if his life depended on it. Well, it probably did.

Most of the heather pollen had
dissipated, but some lingering effects of the human’s foul concoction remained.
His ability to move had returned, though his wings sagged miserably. Uselessly.

He shuddered. What sort of faerie
king couldn’t fly? He’d be a laughingstock. A failure. Even the thought of
twenty virgin brides couldn’t raise his spirits…among other things.

No one had touched the violet since
uprooting it and dropping it, and him, into a box with hundreds of other
flowers. All he could do was hold on, though he had managed to find a weapon by
breaking a thorn off a neighboring shrub.

The humans had transported him a
great distance. He’d even felt as if they were flying, though not with the
wind-in-his-hair sort of joy to which he was accustomed.

Now the box that had become his
sanctuary sat forlornly beneath a huge tree. Tufts of white fluff flew from the
tree and blanketed the grass, and the wind was the hottest he’d ever
encountered.

He heard a sound and reached down
to retrieve the thorn from where he’d stuck it in the soil. Sword firmly in
hand, he looked beyond the green leaves overhead. Something peered through the
foliage at him. A furry face.

A cat!

Pressing himself closer to the
stalk, Glendon tightened his grip on the thorn and girded himself for battle. A
white paw, claws extended, batted through the foliage and barely missed him.
Glendon held his breath and waited—the beast’s nose pushed through the leaves
and sniffed.

The paw came in again, but this
time its claws weren’t visible. A non-threatening rumble emitted from the cat’s
furry chest.

“Here, kitty-kitty.”

Glendon relaxed somewhat, though he
held his breath again as his feline visitor withdrew.

“There you are, Samantha.”

The human’s voice was definitely
female, soft and lilting, almost soothing. Glendon wanted to see her, but
decided not to leave his hiding place just yet.

Glendon begged to differ. If these
flowers belonged to anyone after this day, it was him.

“Lisa’s going to make me some kind
of organic woo-woo dust, so we don’t need any kitty fertilizer to go with it.
Got it?”

Curiosity tugged at Glendon until
he released the stalk and climbed onto a leaf. He craned his neck to peer
through the leaves.

The human female stooped beside the
cat, stroking its white fur. Her voice continued in that soothing, musical
tone, easing his fears, though suspicion remained. The siren could very well be
baiting a trap.

“Let’s get these flowers into the
greenhouse before Lisa and her new boyfriend get here. The sun is wicked.” She
straightened and approached Glendon.

He leapt down from the leaf and
resumed his grip on the central stalk just as she lifted the box and started
walking. The jarring motion shot through his bones, forcing him to clench his
teeth together tightly to prevent them from rattling in his head.

She entered some sort of shelter
and lowered the box and started pulling plants from inside it. Glendon waited,
terrified. Would she crush him with her huge hands?

He watched her gloved hand hover
over him—he gripped the plant and his sword with all his strength, poised to
attack. But instead of smashing him, she gently lifted the plant from the box.
With a thud, she dropped it into a container and pressed dirt around its base.

’Tis my fate to be buried alive?

Glendon heard the cat’s voice and
saw its white fur through the leaves. The beast seemed to deliberately place
itself between the plant and the human. Glendon readied his weapon again.

Laughing, she nudged the cat away. “Samantha,
move.” The human pressed more dirt around the violet, then stood and walked
away, returning a moment later with a new sound accompanying her.

“I hope I know what I’m doing.” The
end of a snakelike object appeared on the soil beneath him, spewing water from
its mouth. Hoping to avoid the flood, Glendon climbed to the next leaf.

She walked away again, leaving the
spitting snake behind. After a moment, the water stopped and the human
returned.

“There, that should hold them until
Lisa casts her spell—I mean mixes her formula. Of course, I’d love to use some real
fertilizer, but I promised.” She sighed. “I’d better wash up and check on the
lasagna.”

Glendon stared after the human’s
retreating feet and the cat’s bushy white tail as one of the words he’d heard
became agonizingly explicit to his muddled mind.

“Spell?” he whispered.

***

“This is crazy,” Penny repeated as
she watched Fred mix the benign concoction of spices. “Fertilizer? Toss in a
little oil and vinegar and you might have a pretty decent vinaigrette.”

Lisa looked over Fred’s shoulder
and shook her head at Penny. The silent communication came through loud and
clear: Shut up, Penny.

Mr. Wonderful was a nerd in hippie
skin. Penny would bet her last dime that he’d traded his slide rule for his
Tigereye pendant. The amber-colored stone, she’d been informed, was Yang—male
and active. So from that bit of evidence she’d completed her appraisal of Fred
Simon. He was a nerd-turned-hippie—Rush Limbaugh in John Lennon’s clothing. A
man who preferred spinach to meat in his lasagna.

Lisa’s rancher-father might have
shot Fred on sight.

Penny didn’t object when Fred asked
for a book of matches and headed for the fireplace. How could she? Weird as he
was, he looked at Lisa with devotion. This man loved her best friend—how could
Penny hold that against him?

She couldn’t.

Within a few minutes, they were all
seated in the living room with a small fire burning in the hearth. Why not?
Outside it was only ninety in the shade and, for a small fortune, the air
conditioning maintained seventy-six degrees in the house. Thank goodness Dad’s
not home.

Sighing, she turned her attention
to Lisa and Mr. Wonderful.

“So the spices work with the soil’s
nutrients?” Lisa asked.

“Right, with a little compost and
some earthly assistance.” Fred chuckled and pushed his wire rimmed glasses
higher on his thin nose. “After this little blaze burns itself out—”

—and raises the temperature twenty
degrees in here—

“—we’ll gather the ashes and mix
them. Together.”

Penny rolled her eyes as she
watched Lisa slip her hand into Fred’s and beam at him. Only a miracle
prevented Penny from commenting.

Giving herself a mental pat on the
back for pulling off that miracle, she took a step closer. Thankfully, the fire
was already dying. Fred swept the ashes into a bucket.

“We’ll have to be careful of the
hot embers,” he said.

Maybe she’d sold Fred short. At
least he seemed to know a little something about fire safety.

“I’m sure positive thoughts will
prevent disaster, though.”

Then again….

“We’ll need some gardening tools.”
Fred carried the bucket into the kitchen and out the back door.

Shaking her head, Penny followed
her best friend, Mr. Wonderful and Samantha out to the greenhouse. She
retrieved her hand shovel from a peg and passed it to Lisa.

Fred and Lisa stood there holding
hands, the bucket of smoldering ashes in his free hand. The expensive
florescent plant lights bathed them in silver.

Get a grip, Penny.

Still, they made a cute couple. It
almost gagged her to admit it, but it was true. She sighed and moved closer.

Fred took the shovel from Lisa. “I’ll
just put a little of the mixture in the soil around the plants.”

Penny drew a deep breath and
decided to intervene before Mr. Wonderful killed her Highland wild flowers. She
was more than capable of doing that without his assistance. “I’ll do this part.
After all, I have to learn sometime.”

She took the bucket of vinaigrette
fertilizer and the shovel. Kneeling beside the planters, she loosened the dirt
and gently mixed in the ashes. With any luck, the damp soil would smother any
hot embers.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

“Save some ashes so we can mix a
spray,” Fred urged. When she looked over her shoulder at him, he shrugged. “It’s
a scientific experiment. The untreated flowers will be our control group.
Right?”

Yep, a nerd. She couldn’t
argue with his pseudo-logic, though. They were testing how far sane people
would go to pacify the insane. The experiment was complete. She’d passed the
point of no return the minute she dropped to her knees.

Samantha stuck her nose in a small
violet and purred. “Beat it, fur ball,” Penny said affectionately. She didn’t
want her pet to get burned.

After a few minutes, Penny stood
and brushed the dirt off her hands. “All right, I’ve saved enough for a spray.
Let’s do it.” She laughed and reminded herself this was all perfectly harmless
now that the burning part was history.

“Oh, Penny, this is going to be
wonderful for your flowers.” Lisa stepped closer and pointed at the violet
Samantha’d been exploring. “I think that puny one looks perkier already.”

Perkier? How scientific. Somehow,
Penny had trouble thinking of imported wild flowers as perky. However, she
managed a smile and retrieved the sprayer, emptied the last of the ashes into
the container, then filled it with water.

“I’m going to spray the same plants
I treated the soil around,” she said, beginning the process as she spoke. “We’ll
compare them with our control group in a week. How’s that sound?”

Penny swirled the spray bottle to
distribute the last of the ashes, then gave the “puny” violet an extra good
dose. Now all she needed was a giant to go with the beanstalk.

Or a goose that lays golden eggs?

Smiling at her own foolishness,
Penny straightened and turned to face her guests. “All done. Now we’ll have to
wait to see what happens.”

“Right.” Fred looked down at Lisa
and smiled.

Penny turned away, embarrassed by
the intimacy in his expression.

Lisa yawned and stretched. “My, it’s
getting late.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Penny put
away her tools, then faced her guests. “Thank you both for coming to dinner…and
for the fertilizer.” She forced a smile, though the feelings creeping through
her could only be called bittersweet.

They mumbled thanks for the meal
and Penny escorted them from the greenhouse and around to the side gate. Lisa
looked over her shoulder and waved. The security light on the front of the
house made it impossible to pretend Penny hadn’t seen the question in her
friend’s eyes.

Swallowing her guilt and reminding
herself how happy Lisa looked, Penny gave her a thumbs up sign. It was
incredible, but after that Lisa looked even happier. And Penny smiled inside
and out for the first time all evening.

A part of her past was gone—no
doubt about it. Fred was strange, but he seemed basically good and he adored
Lisa. Nothing else really mattered.

With a sigh, she returned to the
greenhouse to make sure nothing was on fire. Samantha’s fascination with the
puny violet continued. The cat buried her face in the plant again, then
screeched, leaping back as if something had bitten her.

Or burned her nosey nose. “That
does it.” Penny had to make sure the fire was completely smothered. She
retrieved the garden hose and put the fan sprayer on the end to make a gentle
mist. After turning the water on low, she dragged the hose over to the planters
and started to sprinkle all the flowers, including those that hadn’t been
fertilized.

Whatever happened to plain,
old-fashioned manure? That used to be enough to pacify the organic gardeners,
and they had plenty of it right here on the Lazy B. Lisa hadn’t said Penny
couldn’t treat the other plants with manure. Now that was natural. Penny
moved to the other side of the planter, giving the violet Samantha’d been
exploring an extra good dousing.

A rumbling, cracking, groaning
sound suddenly erupted. Penny took a step back, still clutching the sprinkler.
She stared into the darkness, watching the fertilized plants shoot toward the
top of the greenhouse like a scene from a cheap movie.

Heather and lavender spiraled
upward. Penny took another step back as a vine snaked toward her with spindly
green fingers. Swallowing hard, she held her breath.

Something shiny and orange crawled
from the jungle—strangely familiar black spots covered its back. It was a
ladybug, much closer in size to a good-sized turtle than an insect. The hair on
Samantha’s back stood on end, then she wisely retreated through the open
greenhouse door.

Penny dropped the sprinkler and
clutched the base of her throat. This couldn’t be real.

“What in the name of all that’s Fae
has befallen me now?”

Penny blinked. Forget the mutant
ladybug. The organic fertilizer. The cat. The flowers.

A man stepped from the
myriad of vines and blooms, shaking water from his hair. He paused a few feet
away, glowering down at her.

The plant lights formed a golden
halo around his head. Shock suppressed Penny’s fight or flight instinct,
leaving her no alternative but to stand frozen to the ground.

He was beautiful. Muscles rippled
along his arms and shoulders; taut golden flesh stretched across his abdomen.
Her mouth went dry and her heart slammed against her ribs.

She jerked her gaze back to his
god-like face. “Wh—who are you?” Her voice was a strangled whisper. Imprisoned
by his probing gaze, she could only stare and wait helplessly for his answer.

He placed a fist on each bronze hip
and straightened—tall, imposing.

Naked.

***

Terror plundered through Glendon as
he stood soaked and staring at the beautiful witch. He was proof of her
awesome power.

Most faeries possessed the ability
to achieve human form for limited periods of time, but only with much
deliberation. But this time, he was trapped.

“What have you done?” He took a
step toward her, noting her wide blue eyes were filled with fear.

She pursed her lips together and
her eyes snapped. “Penny Basinger and I’m not a witch.”

A witch would not have given her
name so easily, unless she was certain of his helplessness. She turned as if to
leave, but Glendon grabbed her arm and pulled her hard against him. The shock
of her softness meeting his body stunned him. For a moment, all he could do was
gaze into her beautiful, deceitful eyes.

His sense of reason surged forth
and he placed some distance between them, though he didn’t release her. She was
powerful, and he had no doubt her spell had made him respond to her. Why else
would he ache to touch her?

Sweat dripped from his brow and his
mouth went dry. Why had she summoned him here and made him human size?
He swallowed hard—only one reason made sense.

She wished to mate.

***

Penny’s life was complete. How many
women had greenhouses boasting flowers and faeries, after all? Not to
mention the mutant ladybug.

I don’t believe this.

Not only did the naked hunk think
he was a faerie, but he was the sexiest man she’d ever seen. A faerie god? Get
real. She hated the way his touch made her bones feel heavy and liquid.

She couldn’t drag her gaze from his
magical green eyes, nor could she deny the hunger she saw there. Well, she
hated to burst his bubble, but she didn’t sleep with strangers.

Faerie or no.

Trying to avoid his gaze, she
looked beyond him at her colossal flowers, replaying the evening’s events. Lisa
had said something about “Jack’s Magic Beanstalk.”

She looked the faerie prince in the
eye. “Jack?” she whispered.

“Glendon,” he corrected.

“You’re hurting me.”

“Forgive me.” He dropped his hands
to his sides and genuine remorse filled his eyes. “But I must know what
happened.”

“I’m not sure, but I’ll help if I
can.” Anything to make the naked faerie prince go away.

“You refuse to reverse your spell?”

Penny threw up her hands. “I’m not
a witch.” She blinked several times. Could Fred have cast a spell?

Of course, that was ridiculous.
Faeries and giant ladybugs didn’t exist. This was all nothing but a bad dream.
In the morning she’d laugh about it.

Except for Glendon’s bod. That was
no laughing matter. If only all her dreams were like him. She lowered her gaze
again.

Whoa, baby.

Drawing a deep breath, she looked
him in the eye. “Tell me what happened, and maybe I can help,” she said, no
longer frightened. “And maybe you should put on some clothes.” She couldn’t
think straight with all this naked testosterone around.

With a sigh, he reached behind him
and plucked a giant leaf and wrapped it around his waist. “Better?”

No. “Yes, thanks.”
Penny cleared her throat. “Come to the house and I’ll make tea.”

“Do you have milk and honey?”

“Sure.” Wary, Penny stepped out the
door and led her uninvited guest to the back door. Thank goodness her father
wasn’t here to meet her faerie prince—just in case he wasn’t a dream.

Glendon followed her into the
house, squinting up at the bright kitchen light. He walked around the room,
touching appliances. He discovered the light switch and flipped it on and off
several times.

“Have a seat.” She hurried around
the kitchen. “Do you want your milk warm or cold?”

“Cold in this heat?” He sat in a
chair at the table and watched her fill a glass. “What kind of milk?”

“Kind?” Penny narrowed her gaze and
set the glass in front of him, then retrieved the squeeze bottle of honey from
the cupboard. “Cow, of course.”

“Many thanks.” Glendon stared at
the honey, then upended it and squeezed the substance into his hand, where he
tasted it with his tongue. “Clover.”

The sight of his tongue lapping
honey from his palm made Penny tingle all over. She couldn’t prevent the image
of him holding her. Touching her. Kissing her.

“Oh, God,” she murmured, turning
away to grab a spoon. She hurried to the table and placed the spoon in front of
him, grabbing the honey from his grasp before he could entertain her any
further. She couldn’t handle the frustration.

He watched her squeeze honey into
his glass, and she looked at him and said, “Say when.” He said nothing, which
didn’t surprise her, so she decided when and dropped the spoon into his glass.

She sat across the table from him
and watched him stir the mixture very slowly, his eyes wide with wonder as he
lifted the spoon from the glass. He was beautiful, and if he was real, he was
nuts.

Certifiable.

But how had he appeared in her greenhouse?
“Are you ready to tell me what happened and why you’re here?”

“Aye.” He lifted the glass to his
lips, then hesitated, watching her over the rim. “You are not a witch?”

“No.” Penny sighed and slumped back
in her chair.

He took a long drink, then wiped
away his milk moustache with the back of his hand. “Very good. Thank you.”

“Okay, spill.”

He frowned. “You wish me to spill
the milk? Why?”

“No, tell me what happened to you.”
Penny mentally counted to ten and folded her hands demurely in her lap. Her temper
and confusion mounted.

“Go on.” Penny’s eyes grew round as
she watched his expression. He believed his madness.

“Humans sprayed poison and
harvested me with the flowers.” He leaned toward her. “Then someone cast a
spell and made me big.”

Size matters. She put
her head in her hand and groaned. Bad girl.

After a moment, she cleared her
throat and faced him again. “There was no spell. Get that straight.”

“Something paralyzed me, then made
me grow with the flowers.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Except for my wings.”

Penny leapt to her feet, rushing
around behind Glendon to examine his magnificent back. His skin glistened like
bronze, and she ached to touch the rippling muscles along his shoulders. “I don’t
see anything,” she said, hating the breathy quality of her voice.

“In the center,” he said. “Please
look closely.”

Penny leaned closer and saw two
small protrusions, almost transparent, in the middle of his back. She touched
one of them and felt it move. “They are wings.”

He sighed and slumped forward. “I
fear this day has sapped my strength.”

My God, it’s true. Penny
recalled the scene in the greenhouse, the way he’d appeared with the giant
ladybug. His story made sense in a twisted way. Assuming faeries existed, of
course.

She walked slowly back to her chair
and sagged into it. “The stuff they sprayed must’ve been insecticide,” she
said, trying to sort through everything. “Then we fertilized…and you grew.”

“Aye.” He sounded weary and his
expression was pleading. “If you are not an evil witch, will you help me?”

His sincerity touched Penny. “I’m
not evil or a witch, but I’ll try to help.”

“Thank you.” He smiled weakly. “I
must rest.”

“I’ll show you the guest room.” How
would she ever explain him to her father?

“Nay, I prefer to rest among the
flowers.”

“Sure, I’ll grab a blanket and
pillow.”

“I require neither.” He stood and
walked to the door, pausing to look back. “You did not summon me for…anything?”

The expression in his eyes stole
her breath—suggestive yet weary. He looked tired. Lost. Would he die? Guilt
pressed down on her. That stupid flower show could cost this man—yes, man—his
life.

“Are you all right?” She rose and
walked toward him, reaching up to brush her fingertips along his cheek. She had
to touch him. He felt real and warm. “I’m sorry.”

“You are good, and I regret calling
you evil.” Gently, he cupped her cheek in his other hand. “And beautiful.”

Speechless, Penny stood rooted,
savoring the feel of his hand on her face. Desire shot through her, sweet and
fierce.

For this stranger. This faerie.
This man.

He turned and walked slowly toward
the greenhouse, his head bowed. Anger shot through Penny, and she vowed to see
this situation righted.

An idea blossomed in her mind and
she raced for the phone to punch in Lisa’s number. “Hi, I need you and Fred
back out here tomorrow morning,” she said. “Bring every book you’ve got on
faeries.”

She had to help him.

***

Pennywatched Fred pitch the tent at the back of the greenhouse, wondering how she’d
survived this past week. At least she’d managed to convince Glendon to wear
shorts and a T-shirt. Not typical ranch attire, but enough to convince her
father he was an expert who’d accompanied the wild flowers. After mumbling
something about his late mother’s eccentricities, Big John Basinger had turned
his attention to other matters.

Whew.

“Your friends are kind,” Glendon
said, giving her one of his looks that made her blood turn molten.

Penny shivered, despite the soaring
temperatures inside and out. “If anyone can help you, they can.” Glendon made
her want things she hadn’t experienced in far too long.

Correction, he made her want him.

But her feelings for him were far
more than sexual. She liked him. Despite his ignorance about her world,
he was intelligent, witty, and kind. She loved talking to him, and he made her
think about nature and things she’d taken for granted all her life.

“Did you really talk to the cows?” She
had to ask.

“Will you laugh again?” He folded
his arms across his taut abdomen and his eyes twinkled.

“No, I’m sorry about that.”

“Aye, and their plight distresses
them. And me.”

“Glendon…”

He lifted an eyebrow. “You can get
much milk from one cow.”

Penny bit her lower lip. This was
uncomfortable territory. “I’ll speak to my father about it,” she said. Eventually.

“Good.” He took her hand and
squeezed it.

Penny loved the feel of Glendon’s
large hand surrounding hers. She looked up and met Lisa’s suggestive smile. Her
friend insisted Glendon had been sent here for Penny. Fate.

Uh-oh. “All right,
let’s see how Fred and Lisa are coming with the chamber.” She took a step, but
felt Glendon’s hand on her shoulder.

Ignoring Lisa, Penny turned to face
Glendon. “What is it?”

“If this works, I’ll…”

The expression in his eyes unnerved
her, but she couldn’t drag her gaze from his no matter how hard she tried. “What?”

“I’ll miss you.”

The confusion in his eyes gave way
quickly to what could only be called genuine regret. He cared, and that
knowledge made her want to throw herself into his arms and kiss him senseless.

“I’ll miss you, too,” she
whispered, blinking back the stinging sensation in her eyes.

“Come on over so I can show you
this,” Fred said, shattering the moment.

Penny wrenched herself from Glendon’s
gaze and rushed toward Fred. “Okay, how does this work?”

Fred grinned. “It’s just a tent
with a vaporizer.”

Penny couldn’t imagine anything
this simple restoring Glendon to his faerie state, but something equally simple
had made him human. Who was she to argue with this special brand of magic
science?

“Glendon, you’ll sleep in here
every night, and Penny will fill the vaporizer with a mixture similar to the
fertilizer.”

“How will that work?”

“I’ve left out one ingredient, and
I think it’s something faeries might produce themselves.”

How could Fred possibly know
anything about faeries. Then she reminded herself that her friends were trying
their best to help, and she nodded. “Maybe Glendon’s body will produce whatever
this is and return him to normal?”

Fred shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

“Thank you.” Glendon stepped
forward and extended his hand the way Penny’d taught him before he met her
father. “I’m most grateful.”

“I’d love to hear more about your
world before you leave us,” Fred said, his eyes shining with eagerness. “Humans
have much to learn about living in harmony with nature.”

“Aye.” Glendon looked at Penny from
the corner of his eye, earning a giggle from Lisa. “I’ve spoken with the cows.”

All eyes turned toward Penny. “So
did you write down the list of things I’m to put in the water?” she asked,
determined to change the subject.

“Cowards?” Glendon placed his hand
on Penny’s upper arm. “Nay, your friends are good and brave.”

“They’re the best.” Heat radiated
from Glendon’s hand and into her. Her flesh tingled and her insides clenched in
anticipation. She wanted him to kiss her. Desperately.

“You are good and brave, too,” he
said, inching closer. He brought his fingertips to her face and gently stroked
her burning cheek. “I find myself…wanting things I’ve never known before. With
you.”

“Never?” she whispered, wondering
where all the oxygen had gone. This was crazy—she barely knew Glendon, and he
wasn’t even human. Yet, in many ways, he was more human than anyone she’d
ever known—kind, gentle, good. And she wanted him. Now. Her virgin
faerie prince.

“Never?” she repeated.

“Never.” He barely brushed her lips
with his.

Penny threw her arms around him and
clutched him to her. She met his kiss with all the pent-up passion she’d felt since
that first night. He tasted sweet, like honey.

Groaning, he parted his lips and
welcomed her kiss. Penny had never gone on the offensive with any man before,
but there was something about this one….

And he could be gone by morning.

She pulled away to gaze into his
eyes. Naked desire burned in their depths, mirroring everything she felt. Penny
made her decision. If morning took him from her, she vowed they would have this
one night together.

A night to last forever.

***

Glendon opened his eyes in a fragrant
fog, slowly remembering where he was, and with whom. His heart slammed against
his chest as he gazed down at the warm, beautiful female curled against him.

Joy and love washed through him and
he smiled. His heart felt too full for even his human size, and he ached to
join with her yet again.

Then he realized the full impact of
his actions. They were mated for life.

He gazed upon Penny again and her
eyes fluttered open. A slow smile appeared on her face and his love crowded his
guilt aside again. For now.

“Good morning,” she whispered,
stretching languidly.

Glendon’s breath caught as she
wriggled against him, warm and naked. “Good morning.” His voice sounded husky,
foreign to his own ears. Of course, he was no longer the faerie prince awaiting
marriage to twenty virgin brides. He swallowed hard.

“You feel good.” She buried her
face against his shoulder.

“Penny,” he whispered, trying to
understand everything. If he could never return home…. He wrapped his arms
around her and just held her. How could this be wrong?

A scratching sound came from the
greenhouse door. “Oh, no.” Penny leapt to her feet and pulled on her discarded
clothing. “My father.”

Glendon understood and pulled on
the clothes Penny had brought him. He followed her through the jungle of giant
flowers. Seeing the ladybug reminded him they’d forgotten to put it inside the
tent last night. They’d been distracted.

Penny fluffed her curly hair, then
grabbed a gardening tool from the cupboard near the door. “Look busy,” she
whispered, then opened the door.

But instead of Penny’s tall father,
the small dog Glendon had met yesterday trotted into the greenhouse and sat up
on its haunches before him. He stared deeply into its eyes. A curious spark of
green flashed in the canine’s honey-colored eyes, then a shower of glittering
dust surrounded the white fur.

“What the—” Penny slammed the
greenhouse door and leaned against it.

Glendon recognized the identity of
the faerie before her transformation was complete. “Mother.” Her crown was
slightly askew, but he’d know her anywhere.

She pressed her fingertips to her
lips and a tear escaped. Glendon captured it on the tip of his finger and held
it out to the morning light. “Beautiful.” When he met his mother’s gaze, he saw
tears in her eyes as well.

“My son,” she said. “Even if I
restore you to faerie, you’ll be unable to wed, for you’ve chosen another.”

Glendon lowered his gaze, saddened
about the fate of his race. “Is there no way…?”

His mother’s lower lip trembled and
she drew a deep breath. “It is within my power to strip you of all that is Fae,
and to return your faerie dust to our burgh.”

Glendon clenched his teeth. “And
the pollination can commence without…?”